Photo Credit: Lynda Bernhardt
I am sending out prayers, positive thoughts, and positive energy to all of my readers who are facing another Christmas with empty arms. I remember the pain all too well. I spent four Christmases choking back the tears.
On the first of these painful Christmases, I had announced a few months prior that we were trying to have a baby. My mother-in-law poured wine for all of us and asked if it was okay for me to have some. It was hard to tell her that I, unfortunately, could imbibe.
On the second of these painful Christmases, I was so angry that the doctor was forcing us to take the month off from fertility treatments and “just try naturally.” I was due to ovulate right at the holiday, and the doctor’s office was going to be closed. Yes, I recognized that I could not expect the doctor to spend Christmas morning performing an intrauterine insemination (IUI), but I was so angry that my body timed my ovulation like this. I wanted a baby now, and I was going to have to wait yet another month to try to get pregnant.
On the third Christmas, I insisted on taking the month off from fertility treatments. By this time, I had been trying to conceive for 2-1/2 years, and I was worn out from fertility treatments. I wanted my life back. I did not want to stay obsessed about every nuance of my body. My husband did not support the decision but grudgingly accepted it.
By the fourth Christmas, we had given up on fertility treatments and had signed with an adoption agency. Our home study had been completed over the summer, and we were waiting for a call that an expecting mother had chosen us to parent her child. That call did not come that Christmas. I hoped and prayed that my arms would not be empty for the next Christmas.
At the fifth Christmas, I was no longer choking back tears. Instead, I was sitting near the phone waiting for the call to tell us that our son was about to be born. His due date was right around Christmas, so that was a Christmas of anticipation. It was not until the following Christmas that my arms were no longer empty. The joy I felt at Christmas #6 outweighed all of the pain that I felt in the preceding Christmases.
My most cherished Christmas ornament is the one that says Baby’s First Christmas 2001. I actually have one that says Baby’s First Christmas 2000, that somebody gave us in case our son was born in time for the holiday. That one is special, too. By looking at one ornament, I remember the fullest joy that I will probably ever know.
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